Heart of Stone
by Cosette Everdeen
Summary: Picks up sometime between the Victory Tour and the Quarter Quell. Katniss and Gale remain secretly involved despite Snow's threats. However, when Katniss discovers she is pregnant, the stakes grow even higher. Follows the basic storyline of the novels, but obviously with some major differences.
1. In Dreams

I've been having strange dreams lately. They involve me running through the woods, chasing a little girl. Is it Prim? Is it me? Is it someone who doesn't really exist? All I know is that she's small, she's fast, and I need to catch her. My heart pumps hard and I'm panting. The sky around us is bright pink like a sunset and the trees groan as they break in half. She giggles in a high-pitched voice. I need to take her somewhere safe. I need to find her.

I don't. I fall into a pit that I couldn't see and everything is black. I fall for hours and I'm soaking wet, plummeting through cold water. I can't find her. She needs me. Or do I need her more?

* * *

When I wake, the sun is already up. It has to be at least ten. I sit up in bed, confused, alarmed, and look around the room. Gale is noticeably absent, and so are his clothes. No one else is with me, and I hear nothing. I don't sleep in often. I'm utterly confused.

My feet quietly shuffle against the floor as I go downstairs. My mother is in the kitchen with Prim and I have to clear my throat so that they know I have arrived.

"Oh, good morning," my mother says with a smile. She is stirring something in a bowl and I realize she is making medicine. My eyes move to my sister, who smiles as well.

"Did you sleep well?" Prim asks. She's gotten so much taller that I feel she'll catch up to me any day now. I must have blinked and missed the part where she grew up.

I nod and poke around the pantry, my stomach uttering a deep grumble. "I think my stomach woke me up. What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty." My mother comes over to kiss my cheek. "Are you feeling okay?"

I furrow my brow. "Yeah. I mean, I know I hardly ever sleep in, but..." I lose my train of thought as I find something for breakfast. By this time on most days I'm usually up and out, but this late start is throwing me off. I make myself a large bowl of oatmeal and pour plenty of brown sugar on top. My sister and mother exchange a look but I'm too occupied with food to care.

"Have you seen Gale today?" I ask after wolfing down half the bowl. "He and I were supposed to go out."

They mention nothing about him spending the previous night with me, or the one before that, or the several nights before those. Sometimes he comes straight from the mines, sometimes in the middle of the night after being with his family, and other times he comes just before dawn to kiss me good morning. He never fails me.

"He said not to worry. He's in the usual spot," Prim smiles at me. Her cheeks are pink and I can't help but blush in return. "Are you gonna go find him?"

She knows the answer. I finish my breakfast and kiss the top of her head before going upstairs. I pull off my pajamas and change into some clothes more appropriate for hunting. Spring has arrived but it's still chilly enough to warrant my old jacket. I keep my hair down, too eager to get out of the house to bother with braiding it. I kiss Prim's forehead on the way out and smile at my mother, and with that I am on a half-jog to the district fence.

It's Sunday, after all. It's our day.

When I make it to the woods, to the spot where I always meet Gale, I hear him muttering. He's most likely ranting about the Capitol again, and why shouldn't he? Now that I'm a Capitol darling, he's even angrier.

"You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" I tease. He turns at my voice and I frown at the disgruntled look on his face. "What's the matter?"

"It's my day off, Catnip, I shouldn't be bringing this kind of stuff up—"

"Tell me," I say in a firm voice. I move closer to him. I don't want to have our one day of relative freedom overshadowed by whatever is bothering him.

He sighs and looks at his feet before his eyes meet mine again. Gray-blue eyes, just like mine. He makes for a pretty convincing cousin, but anyone living in District Twelve knows that's far from the truth.

"People in the mines, they're getting hurt. They're breaking their arms and legs, getting sick, almost getting killed down there, and no one is getting the help they need. There's only so much that people like your mom can do," he says, his voice a low murmur. "And with the way things are going, I don't think they're gonna be building hospitals left and right."

The Hob was burned down and replaced with a whipping post. Now the ground is stained with the blood of so-called lawbreakers and traitors. Once, it was spattered with _his_ blood. The memory makes me clench my fists.

"So what are you going to do? Walk out of the mines? They wouldn't wait to shoot you," I mutter. "They don't exactly see people as valuable."

Gale chews on the inside of his cheek and I see his jaw clench. "It's either that, or we all die in the mines. They could plan an accident." The final word is said in an especially bitter tone. We both tense at the idea of another mining accident, this time claiming him instead of our fathers. My stomach turns at the idea.

"We can't live like this," I finally say after a moment of silence. "Nobody can. Nobody _should_." I have all the money, food and shelter I could ever need, but if everyone else is suffering, it doesn't make me feel any better. Or safer.

He steps closer to me and I can feel his warm breath on my skin. I always feel so small around him, like he could envelop me in his arms and keep me there. Sometimes he does, when it's the middle of the night and I wake up crying. I don't even have time to scream before he pulls me close, kisses my forehead, and pets my hair. It's the times when I'm alone that hurt the most. The times when I don't have him to comfort me and convince me the monsters aren't there, the mutts with the tributes' eyes that reek of roses and blood. If he were to come as close to death as he was after his flogging, or if he actually died…I don't think I could hold on anymore.

There's always Peeta, but he doesn't know me like Gale does. Before the Games, he only knew a pigtailed little girl who could sing the meadow song. He knew an echo of my mother, as did his father. He knew nothing of the fatherless hunter who grew up too fast, or of the wide-eyed girl who made the woods her safe haven. He knows me now as a fraud and a terrible actress with an equally bad temper. As much as I care for him – really I do, I do care for him – he knows nothing about me.

"Well, we have to do something soon," Gale says with a sigh. He tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. "Or else we _are_ going to be living like that. If we live at all."

* * *

Tonight I dream of Gale. He has invited me into the mines and for some reason we are smiling. I hold his hand and we run to the elevator, the very last place our fathers ever drew a breath. He pulls me close, hands on my cheeks, and kisses me. The kiss is deep and warm, as his kisses always are. There is cheering from outside the elevator and we look up to wave to our families. Prim, my mother, Hazelle, Vick, Rory, Posy, and even Buttercup and Lady are waving back, cheering and whistling and clapping. Wildflowers fall from the ceiling and the elevator descends. The cheers fade as we go deeper into the mine. Deeper, darker… I'm drowning in flowers. The flowers fade, their petals turn hard, and they die all around me. It smells like ashes. I'm gasping, crying out for Gale as we plummet faster and faster to the bottom of the mines. The roar of a fire sounds from behind me and I think it's all over until I hear a little girl screaming. She's too young to be Prim. Is it Posy? I don't see her flash of soft red hair. It has to be her.

_"Posy!"_

"Whoa, hey there." Gale's voice is concerned and I feel his hands touch my shoulders. I sit up and sniffle, feeling hot tears on my cheeks and my heart beating so hard that I think my sternum could shatter. "What's happening with Posy?"

My mention of his sister's name has made him even more on edge. The world comes back to me, free of flowers and ashes and screaming. I am in my bed, in my room, in my house. Gale sits beside me, his black shirt wrinkled from sleeping in strange positions. We have that trait in common as well.

"I…I don't know. I thought I heard her," I whisper. Once I have convinced him that his baby sister is indeed safe, he relaxes and rubs my tears away with his thumbs. "I keep having dreams about her. I think it's her."

Gale swallows. Posy holds a special place in his heart, much like Prim does in mine, and I understand his concern. If he were to tell me that he had recurring nightmares about Prim, I would refuse to leave her alone.

"I don't know for sure, though," I add quickly. "I can't see her. But I don't think it's Prim or…Rue," I murmur. He pulls me closer and I close my eyes, soothed by the feeling of his hands on my back. How is he always so warm? "Maybe it's just someone that exists in my dreams. Some of that weird psychology crap," I say with a tired smile. I could afford a psychologist if I wanted one, but there is no need to draw even more attention to myself. Snow would hate the idea of me spilling all my secrets to another human being. The doctor would end up dead and I don't want any more blood on my hands. I dismiss the idea and decide to just endure the dreams. The nightmares.

Gale utters a quiet grunt in reply and lies back down, and I rest on his outstretched arm. I curl up against him, cheek to his chest, and close my eyes. His heartbeat very faintly echoes against my ear and it is this lullaby that soon draws me back into sleep.

* * *

I am alone again when I wake up, this time with a sharp pain in my back. I groan and throw the covers aside, forcing myself to leave the comfort of my bed and go to the bathroom. I crack my back as I go along but it does little to ease the pain. My feet shuffle against the floor and I close the bathroom door. After cracking my neck I lean on the vanity, seeing my puffy-eyed reflection. There's a dull ache in my right temple and all I want to do is crawl back in bed for the rest of the day. For the rest of the week, even. I barely get up from using the toilet when there's a knock at my door.

"Katniss?" Prim's voice registers and I finish washing my hands. When I open the door Haymitch is standing there. "Sorry, he insisted—"

"Morning, sweetheart," Haymitch smirks. "Sorry, did I come at a bad time? It happens." He's still bitter about the time I doused him with alcohol to wake him up. Now he's taking his revenge on me.

"I'm not in the mood, Haymitch. I just want to go back to bed," I mutter. I'm still in my satin nightgown and, feeling immodest, go to pull a cardigan around myself.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he says as he follows me around my room. I can smell the alcohol on his breath from five feet away and it makes my stomach turn. It smells especially pungent today. "You've got a commitment today, remember? Effie would be so disappointed to know you've forgotten."

Immediately I tense up. Things come back to me. I had forgotten about yet _another _meeting with Cinna to choose a wedding dress. I hardly felt like putting on a bra and pants, let alone struggling to squeeze into a dozen wedding dresses.

"Great," I mumble. I glare at Haymitch, who keeps smirking. "I got the message. Let me get dressed."

"Whatever you say, princess." He giggles and Prim finally escorts him out of my room, giving me an apologetic look over the shoulder. The smell of alcohol still lingers in the air and I sigh, stripping out of my bedclothes so I can throw on something decent.

By the time I'm dressed and have brushed my hair and teeth, my prep team is practically breaking down my bedroom door. I politely hug and kiss and greet them as they squeal and coo over me like I'm a newborn baby.

"Oh, Katniss, you're going to look lovely in all those dresses! I'm so excited to see what you'll choose!" Octavia squeaks as she powders my face. I have to try not to sneeze on her. "I was sad to see that dress with the rubies go. You didn't like that one? I loved it! Oh, I have to get some rubies when we get back to the Capitol!"

Just like that, they're off again, talking about jewels and wigs and makeup and all these things I have no knowledge of, nor do I care about. All I can do is stand there and think of the pain in my back and my head while they beautify me. Why today? Why couldn't they just let me lie in bed with a pillow over my head? Because I have expectations to meet and an image to uphold. Our audience – rather, the people in the Capitol, as I'm sure no one in the districts actually cares what my wedding dress will look like – is waiting for me to be paraded in front of the cameras yet again.

Haymitch was right. We never get off this train, as much as I'm trying to break free from it. I look in the mirror and see myself, frizzy hair tamed and blemishes hidden under beautiful makeup. The dark brown eyeshadow accentuates my eyes, and I think that maybe makeup isn't so bad. If the stakes were not so high, I could someday learn to enjoy being dolled up. Prim certainly would. She wouldn't put up such a fuss, and God knows she has infinitely more charisma. Haymitch is also right in that I am less charming than a dead slug. Maybe the alcohol hasn't damaged his brain too much.

"You look beautiful," she says, and I discern her soft voice over the chorus of high-pitched, Capitol-accented compliments. Venia, Flavius and Octavia part so that I can see my sister.

"That's _with _makeup," I reply with a smile. My cheeks redden when she hugs me and I pat her back affectionately. "You don't need makeup." How did Prim turn into a young woman seemingly overnight? Just months ago I was telling her to tuck in her shirttail and she was still sleeping in my bed. A different bed, a different house, a different time. A different me.

I am taken downstairs to the living room, where cameras have been set up and a rack filled with dresses in plastic bags is waiting for me. I wince at the thought of having to be tied, buttoned, and zipped into each one. To each his own private terror, right? For Gale, it's working the mines seventy-two hours a week. For Peeta, it's dealing with the unreturned love of a distant stranger. For Haymitch, it's running out of alcohol. For me, amongst other things, it's being a Capitol doll.

I spot Cinna and he takes me behind the changing curtain. "Katniss, relax. It's just like last time. You'll try each one of the dresses on, spin around in it, and at least pretend that you like it. Can you do that for me?" He fixes a stray lock of my hair and I nod. As long as Cinna is here with me, I might not go ballistic.

"I really have to wear the dress people choose for me?" I say, mildly appalled. With my luck it will involve an unhealthy amount of beads, feathers, and lace. Maybe it will be enough to hide my face under.

"I think the voting part is incidental. Don't worry. I won't let them pick the worst one," he says with a smile. The light catches his gold eyeliner and he embraces me. "You look beautiful, no matter what."

The first dress is brought out and I of course think it's ghastly. It is strapless and sheer except for the intricate, bold lace detail that almost covers it entirely. The buxom skirt makes my waist three times its size and I can't turn around without hitting someone. The veil is of a matching lace pattern and when it is placed on my head, I feel the material go past my elbows all the way to the floor.

"I'm a fire hazard," I mutter as Cinna finishes smoothing out the skirt. There is more fabric on my body than there is skin. He chuckles, shakes his head, and ushers me out once I have an acceptable smile on my face.

"Oh, so elegant! You look regal," Venia gushes. It is the best compliment anyone can come up with. I am smiling but I want to burn the thing until it is a pile of lacy ash. Cinna senses my discomfort and we move on to the next dress, which I actually like. It too is strapless and mostly sheer, but instead of lace it has some gold floral detailing on the bodice and in parts of the skirt. It flows and I can safely move in it. The smile on my face is genuine; Cinna notices this. He sees I like this one.

So does everyone else in the room. There is a collective gasp and I am cooed over once again. I momentarily forget about my discomfort, physical and otherwise, and allow myself to strut around the room for a moment. When I have had enough of the dress I go behind the curtain and Cinna helps undress me.

"Call me crazy but I think you actually liked that one," he says with a smile. Once I'm free of the dress I rub my back and watch him take out the next garment.

"Don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to enjoy this, remember?" I joke. As the tulle of the next dress comes spilling out of its garment bag, I press my fingers to my temple. The pain is still there and with all this stress it's only getting worse. Stand up straight, smile, giggle, prance around, be happy and excited. Repeat. It's my wedding dress, after all, and I will only get to wear it once after this. Any other girl from Panem could only dream of having my luck, and I would happily hand it off to her.

Madge, for example. The closest thing I have to a female friend my age is Madge Undersee, and she is at home watching this right now, just like everyone else who isn't working. She owns much nicer dresses than I did before I was a victor, but definitely nothing like this. Nothing like the next gown I am corralled into. It's more of a light steel color instead of white, but I like it. The sleeves are made of silver flowers and leaves and the satin bodice extends into a full tulle skirt that swishes quietly when I walk. The veil covers my face and I feel like a gothic beauty. The chorus of _oohs_ and _ahhs_ sounds again and soon I am back behind the curtain, but this time, I sit down. My voluminous skirt swallows up anything in its path.

"I don't feel good," I mumble, elbow on the armrest of my chair and eyes on my skirt. I blink slowly, feeling exhausted even though I've been awake for just an hour, two at the most.

Cinna sighs and crouches next to me, taking my other hand. "Katniss, I know this is rough. I know the dresses aren't your favorite thing, but we have to do this. Remember?" he says softly. His fingers stroke the back of my hand and I eventually meet his gaze. He's right. However exhausted and sick I may feel, the show must go on.

Sick? I didn't feel sick ten minutes ago. Now that I've thought of it, the familiar feeling in my stomach makes itself known. I groan quietly and sink further into my chair. "I didn't get breakfast," I explain to Cinna. "I'll be fine. I just need something to eat."

He motions for someone to get me food. My sister is on it and before long returns with biscuits and some leftover toast. I give her my thanks before devouring the entire thing, and she raises her eyebrows when I hand her a crumb-covered plate just moments later. The grumbling in my stomach subsides and I am free to go on. And I do.

* * *

After the special I run to my room to change into something comfortable, namely lounge pants and a forest green blouse. I almost drift off to sleep when a soft knock sounds at my door.

"Come in," I say once I'm sure it isn't Haymitch. The absence of drunken grunts and curses clues me in. It's only three, so it can't be Gale. He'll still be in the mines for another few hours. When the door opens I see a blonde figure, too tall to be Prim but I know it isn't my mother.

"If it's any help, I liked the ball gown one," Madge says. I am so relieved to see her that I smile and move to the foot of my bed. She hugs me and I relax almost immediately. We had never been too close before my Games, but now that I have returned I've made a good friend in her. "You looked so beautiful in all of those dresses. So different, but…wow," she whispers.

We pull back to look at each other and I smile a little wider. Dresses and boys were never our favorite conversation pieces growing up, but here we are, talking about the combination of the two. My stomach lurches a bit and I decide to change the subject. "So when will I get to listen to you play some more piano?"

She lies down on the bed and fidgets with the belt of her dark green dress. I'm rubbing off on her. "Any time you want. I mean, I know you're busy, but I'm almost always at home." Her eyes watch me as I lie down next to her. We lie there and I imagine this is just how any other girls would behave. Not really talking about anything in particular, just laying there, being girls. I wouldn't know. I'll probably never know.

She doesn't ask me about Peeta, which I'm grateful for. She doesn't ask about the Capitol or the other districts. I feel like a normal human being. We lie there for what seems like an eternity, and I'm okay with that. The pain in my back is still there but I've gotten used to it by now. I nibble at some of the cookies my mother left me on a plate. I must look ridiculous, because Madge laughs.

"What?" I ask, brushing some crumbs away from my breasts. I smile awkwardly, confused, and she just shakes her head.

"Oh, nothing," she says in that voice that says the exact opposite. "Just wondering about something."

I furrow my brow when I look at her. "And what is that?"

She grins and rolls onto her side to face me. "Just how long have you been pregnant?"


	2. Only For Now

Madge tells me she knows because her mother was pregnant a few years back, but lost the baby. The aches, the fatigue, the constant hunger (which didn't seem new to me), the weight gain and swelling of my breasts, the lack of a period – all of it comes together now. I am a fool for not even considering it. All I can think is _how? How did this happen?_ Of course I know how it happened, but it still seems like such a far away concept. It seems so impossible, considering the odds. Underfed bodies, unintentional timing, thousands of small miracles in succession of one another. Somehow, this is happening. Somehow, I have a child inside of me.

Madge is excited. I am terrified.

My mother will know soon, if she doesn't already. I wouldn't be surprised if she has taken the hints over the past several weeks and has just been waiting for me to figure it out on my own. Once she knows, Prim will know. My Capitol doctor will find out. Cinna will have to make adjustments to my dresses. Peeta will have to come up with something like he always does. Gale will have to know – won't he?

Long after Madge leaves I am still awake in my bed, sitting in the dark and staring at my stomach. It is early April. Gale has been sleeping with me since a couple months before the tour in January. I have no idea when this happened, but I cannot be too far along. When my mother was pregnant with Prim, it was obvious from the second month on. Now that we have more food, it may be a little easier to hide my development.

I'm thinking like a crazy person. There is no way I can carry a baby to term, much less care for an entirely dependent human for the next couple of decades. My hands start trembling when I place them on my stomach. It bulges just barely and could be passed off as a large meal. This is how I began my life, small and warm and helpless. This tiny being depends on me as I did on my mother and father. They were no victors but had brought up two daughters, so how hard could it be for someone blessed with Capitol riches to successfully raise a child?

I think of Rue and her family, all of her wide-eyed little siblings in District Eleven. If I had been ten seconds faster, I could have saved her. My skin turns to gooseflesh. Ten seconds, and Rue could be back home safe with her family. If that's all it took for me to lose one child, how am I supposed to watch over one for eighteen years?

My status as a victor does not mean immunity for my children. If this baby grows up, he will have to go through the immense dread of Reaping Day for seven years. I don't doubt that Snow would rig it so he could watch me suffer. That man has lived a long life while watching hundreds of children die at his command. He would toast to my child's death. The thought makes me physically ill and I sprawl out on the bed, my hair hanging over the edge of the mattress.

Gale has to know. He's as much a parent to this baby as I am. His love for family dominates everything. If I terminate the pregnancy – an abhorrent option but I realize I may have no other choice – he will most likely never speak to me again. If I conspire to pass off this baby to the world as Peeta's, Gale will not like it one bit. If I have the baby _and_ stay with Gale, we will be in even worse danger than before. This little being inside of me is going to cause much more trouble than talk in the mines and three-finger salutes. Whispers began with the berries, riots began with the speech in Eleven – what would a baby do? A baby would be the catalyst for a full-out war.

Gale cannot know. He would take things into his own hands with disastrous consequences. Peeta and I would be exposed as liars and Snow would have a dozen peacekeepers at the throats of my loved ones in a matter of minutes. The talk in the mines would turn to riots, to revolution, to war, and there would be infinitely more blood spilled. My mother, Prim, Vick, Rory, Posy, Hazelle, Madge, Greasy Sae, Effie, Cinna, Haymitch, my prep team, Peeta, Gale. Everyone I have ever cared for and who has cared for me is already at risk. There can be no rebellion. I will have no future unless it is the one Snow has determined for me. When he runs out of ways to break me, I will be expendable.

I feel like a little girl plucking petals from wildflowers. _I tell him. I tell him not. I tell him. I tell him not. I tell him…I tell him not._

I torture myself with this thinking until finally sleep overtakes me.

* * *

The only thing in my dreams is the tiny girl. She stands behind a wall and bangs on it with her fists, braids flying. I can't see her face and I can't help her. All I can do is watch her scream.

* * *

Gale is the one who rouses me from sleep. I had not even noticed him enter my bed, just assumed that he had come. I have no idea how long he has been beside me but his presence is always reassuring. Except today, I am still nervous around him. Today I have a secret, and I don't keep secrets from Gale.

"Catnip," he says, his voice half a whisper. He looks down at me and touches my shoulder. The calluses on his hands feel strangely comforting. I am suddenly paranoid. Does he know? Has he figured it out? All these half-nights spent together and our sacred Sundays might have given him enough clues. He would not wait this long to confirm it; he would have asked me upfront.

"When did you get in?" I murmur, blinking the sleep from my eyes. The little girl has stopped screaming at last. I fell asleep in my clothes from yesterday and suddenly I am very aware of the wires of my bra digging into my ribs. This is only going to get worse over the next several months. Gale watches me as I sit up and I must be a sight for sore eyes because he chuckles.

"You're beautiful in the morning, you know that? Well, all the time…but especially like this." He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. My heartbeat accelerates and I kiss him back, eyes closed and skin growing warmer. In all my worrying about the baby, I seem to have forgotten about Gale himself. I know that I love him. I just don't know if he's figured that out yet for himself.

_"I love you. Do you love me?" _he had asked when I wanted him to run away with me. I had answered him in the worst way possible. I owe him a real answer.

"Yes," I whisper. Gale pauses and holds my face in both hands, which makes me look up at him. He's confused. I just kiss his lips again and he questions me no further.

It's easy to forget the purpose of sex when you're so wrapped up in your lover. No wonder I virtually forgot about the possibility of pregnancy all those times. He has limited time before he goes back to the mines and I want him with me. None of those girls who whispered about him at school ever came half this far. One night he reassured me that no, none of those rumors were true. Once upon a time he might have entertained the idea, but he is mine. And I am his.

I feel small when I'm with him like this. He's well over six feet tall whereas I am a few inches shy of six. He has hair and scars where I have soft skin perfected by the Capitol. Most notably he has the scars on his back where dozens of lashes ripped apart his skin months before. His cries and groans haunt me as much as the cracking of the whip does. Every time I think of that day I want to scream. I am the girl behind the glass, crying for help, wanting to change everything, but I cannot. He will forever live with the reminder of his flogging, and so will I.

I remind myself to be happy while I have this time with him. I am not in the Capitol, not being filmed, not on tour, not with my team. He is not in the mines or tending to his family. We have such little time to ourselves and it is precious. I can't afford to be distracted right now. I lie down under him and curl my arms up under his arms so I can hold his shoulders.

After a low moan he breathes my name. He doesn't have a shirt on so it is easy for him to undress. I take care of my own clothes and glance at my stomach while he kisses my neck. There is the smallest bulge around my navel and it is definitely not just a big meal sitting in my stomach. Can he feel it as he presses against me? Can he feel his baby? I am still baffled by the idea of Gale and I having a child. I suppose now I've come to terms with it, since I'm thinking like this. Well, at least I'm entertaining the idea of having a family with Gale. If we had run away, where would we be now?

I part my legs for him, soft breaths escaping my lips as he moves ever closer. Nothing else in the world matters right now. It's such a cliché thing to say, but it's true. We could be a family, Gale and I. A part of me wants to run off, have this baby, and live happily ever after. Impossible on many levels, but a nice thought nonetheless.

I think too much.

"Don't go," I whisper. His eyes meet mine and I pull him down by the scruff of his neck, kissing him deeply. Without hesitation he is inside me. Our breaths are ragged but in time; whenever he moans, I whimper. The mattress utters the occasional groan but otherwise we are quiet. It is still too early for my mother and sister to be awake. The house is large enough that we don't have to worry about that anyway. He fills me and I feel utterly complete. Whenever I want a kiss his lips are there, his hands caress the most sensitive parts of my body, and I feel celestial.

I don't keep track of time. All I know is that when we finish – and we both do, our lovemaking is hardly ever rushed – he gives me a tender kiss and rises to clean up. I am left alone in my bed, with the smell of sex in the air and a strange quivering in my belly. I listen to him wash up in the adjacent bathroom and when he comes out he is in his work uniform.

"Katniss," he says with a smile and kneels beside me. He takes my hands in his and kisses them. I feel his warm lips and his handsome stubble against my skin. "I love you."

Now is my chance to reply. Now I can make up for my dumbfounded response months ago. _I know,_ I had said. _You know how I feel about you._ I can feel my lips forming the words I want to say. Three little words that had the power to make or break a person, a relationship, or a country – no wonder I am so hesitant. Love means too much to me for me to just throw it around. With Prim, it's easy. I have never questioned how I feel about her. With Peeta, I feel love for him in a different way. We have experienced a lot together in less than a year, but the romance aspect is an invention. Gale, on the other hand, is complicated. But so are most things nowadays.

I sit up and wrap my arms around his waist, my cheek resting against his chest. "I love you, too." My cheeks flush and he smiles. I have never seen him smile quite like this, especially before going to work. I can't help but return the smile, and he kisses me again before leaving.

* * *

Without Gale by my side I grow more nervous. Something has to be done about this baby. None of the viable options are very pleasant, and none of the pleasant options are very viable. I emerge from my room for the first time in almost twenty-four hours. No cameras today, thank God. My sister is in the living room with Buttercup and my mother is mixing herbs for medicine in the kitchen. I sit beside Prim on the loveseat and Buttercup grumbles at me, but decides to tolerate me.

"Good morning, Katniss." Prim's voice is so soft and almost musical, just hearing her speak brings a smile to my face. "Did you sleep well?"

Without mentioning the nightmares, I shrug. "Pretty average, I guess." The color in her cheeks tells me that she knows Gale was here. "What about you?"

"I had some weird dreams."

"Oh, it must be contagious, then." I look across the hall at my mother, who comes toward us.

"Prim, will you go see if Hazelle has any thyme she'll trade with me?" She wipes her hands on her apron and Prim gets up. Buttercup grunts as he lands on the floor and he watches his beloved owner until she leaves the house. I am rarely alone with my mother, so this is odd. She takes Prim's seat and puts a hand on mine. Her skin is weathered, dry and cool, different from mine and different from Gale's.

"Sweetheart, I wanted to ask you something," she says after a moment. She is rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb and I can tell she is worried about something. If she has caught on, I'll be relieved. That makes one less person I'll have to blurt it out to. "You and Gale, have you been…"

"Yes," I murmur before she embarrasses us both. Have we been sleeping together? Yes. Have we been careful? Not really. But when are we ever careful? We are both forces of nature.

"Okay." She nods like she is carefully considering what to say next. "Have you ever considered that you might be…you might be pregnant?" The final words are a whisper, like someone is watching us. Maybe they are. If Snow somehow snuck cameras inside of my house, I am doomed. I couldn't even reply when he showed me the stolen kiss by the Hob; how am I supposed to defend Gale if Snow finds out what we do behind closed doors?

It dawns on me that my mother is trying to help. I have been so busy providing for our family that I have forgotten that she is primarily here to take care of me. I move closer to her and rest my head on her chest. She wraps her arms around me and sighs.

"What if I am?" I ask in a quiet voice. I can't remember the last time my mother held me like this. It must have been before my father died. "What do I do?"

She tilts my chin up and I look into her eyes. She has been pregnant twice. She was me once – scared, nervous and clueless. Maybe I was unexpected, too. The thought of having a child who grows to cause as much trouble as I have is disconcerting, and this baby has _two_ troublemakers for parents.

"I'll take care of you. I won't say a word unless you tell me it's okay," she says in a low voice. "You tell me what the plan is, and I'll do whatever I can, Katniss." She kisses my forehead and I close my eyes, smelling herbs and spices on her. I'm starting to feel this might be easier than I thought, and that's dangerous.

Now two people know. Madge and my mother are trustworthy and will take my secret to the grave, if need be. I don't want to consider that possibility, but it is comforting to know that I have two people helping me. I tell my sister later that night, when she has gone up to bed and Buttercup is curled up on her chest, purring happily.

"Really?" she asks when I finish explaining my situation. She continues to stroke the cat's thick yellow fur. We sit there quietly for a while, the only sound being Buttercup's gravelly purrs. "Well…what are you going to do?" Her eyes are wide, concerned, but she doesn't look so tiny anymore. Less than a year has passed since she panicked in the line for the Reaping but she looks much more mature. She proved that when she helped take care of Gale.

"I'm not sure," I reply quietly. "I can't get rid of it. That wouldn't solve anything." It really wouldn't. I would spend the rest of my life regretting it and besides, murdering a child would only make me more like Snow. I was aiming to be as far from that as possible.

Prim touches my hand and I take a deep breath, which seems to relax me a bit. "You'll figure it out, Katniss. You always do."


End file.
